


Poor Man's Cake and Tiny Nuns

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, And several other things, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, baking as a love language, but timelines are fake anyway, sexual innuendo in the form of a whisk, takes place sometime after cyberwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: Ianto, in his spare time, has taken up baking. He's never told the team, and claims he buys all the pastries at different bakeries. Jack catches him in the middle of a bake, and things begin to escalate.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	Poor Man's Cake and Tiny Nuns

**Author's Note:**

> i've been watching a lot of the great british bake-off lately and for the last five years so anyway i was inspired to write ianto as an amateur baker inspired by bake-off because i too am an amateur baker inspired by bake-off.   
> an alternate way in which Ianto and Jack get together, because as much as i love the stopwatch scene, i also enjoy writing my own take on that sort of thing. unbeta'd and unedited, sorry

Ianto kneeled in front of the oven, watching as the little pastries filled with steam. This was a delicate process, as one minute off could leave them terribly under- or disgustingly over-baked. But it was a process he had practiced before, and was now getting intimately familiar with the ways in which it worked. The crème pat, though, that was another story. If he could just stop it from curdling…

Yes, Ianto was a baker. A good one at that. He had never really thought much about it, not until he caught a late-night rerun of the Great British Bake-off after a long night at work. Immediately, he was hooked. The idea of creating something beautiful, something delicious for others to enjoy, it spoke to him. From that point on, he taught himself how to bake. 

He started simple, with British biscuits and American cookies, your regular old butter cookies and chocolate chips. And some ended poorly, with terribly scorched edges, and one very bad batch actually caused the oven to light on fire. He had had to explain to his very exasperated coworkers that it was an incident with a frozen lasagne, but that was a lie. 

Ianto didn’t really know why he didn’t want his coworkers to know he was baking. It was just sort of his thing, something he could have entirely to himself, to take his mind off of the horrors of what he saw at work. He always gave the finished products to them, saying he got them at various bakeries around Cardiff, hoping they’d never actually inquire further. The problem was, his oven at home was, frankly, terrible. It had no consistent heat, and always left things with a taste rather like gasoline. So he baked at work, in the break room. On those dark nights, when everyone had gone home (or in the case of Jack, gone out on the town), it was his opportunity to flex his creativity. 

This was the third time he had attempted religieuse, the stacked crème puff dessert meant to imitate little nuns. They were cute and quite delicious in his trial runs, so this time, he was going to test them on the team. He had gotten to know their individual palates over time, and knew that chocolate was something they all enjoyed. Gwen liked traditional Welsh bakes, Tosh liked anything savoury, and Owen found a way to complain about everything which wasn’t exactly surprising. Jack… well, he hadn’t quite figured out what Jack preferred yet. The man was simultaneously easy and impossible to read, and it made it difficult to tell what kind of thing he liked, because he seemed to like everything. There wasn’t a single thing Ianto made that Jack hadn’t complimented. But there must’ve been something, anything Jack liked more than anything else. It motivated Ianto to try more difficult bakes, which is how he stumbled upon the religieuse. 

Ianto hated not knowing everything, and he was going to be damned if he couldn’t find Jack’s favorite dessert. It was his mission now. He had tried all kinds of things, from every imaginable country, and none were the right one. Jack seemed to feel the same about tea cake as he did about a meat pie, and it was infuriating. 

Perhaps he was looking at it from the wrong angle. Perhaps he should try going back to the basics, to something simple. Only, Jack wasn’t a simple man, why should he like a simple dessert?

Ianto was dragged out of his thoughts by the sound of his timer glaring. He yanked open the oven and quickly poked holes into the bottom of the puffs, allowing the steam to escape as they cooked for another few minutes. This part was critical, as they would be much too soggy inside if you forgot it. He had learned that from past mistakes. 

As he put the pastries back in the oven, he could hear someone clearing their throat behind him. Ianto’s stomach dropped. He was caught. His one precious hobby was now known by at least one other member of the team. Slowly, he turned around, and was greeted by Jack’s sly grin. 

“So this is what ‘working late’ means?” Jack asked, amusement filling his face. 

“It’s a sort of work. Just not one I get paid for.”

“I had a feeling it was you doing this. Mainly because I googled the last place you said you got pastries from, and it’s a car dealership in Scotland.”

Damn. His cover was really blown. “Right. I probably should have chosen an actual bakery to lie about.” 

“Why do you need to lie about it? I love a man who bakes.” 

Ianto felt himself going pink, attempting to avoid a full blush. This had become common between them, the casual flirting. At first, Ianto thought nothing of it, since Jack did it with everyone. But the heart was a fickle thing, and Ianto began to feel his heart rate pick up more often than not now when Jack said something like that. Really, he should just bone him right then and there. He was certain Jack wouldn’t mind. The one thing stopping him was that he didn’t just want to have a quick office fling with him. He was rapidly, inescapably falling in love with him. And he couldn’t afford to get his heart broken again, not after Lisa’s untimely passing. 

Trying to distract himself from the problem at hand, Ianto returned his attention to the religieuse. “We can discuss this in a moment. I’m at a critical point in this recipe, and I can’t afford to mess up now.”

“Of course. Don’t let me distract you.”

Ha. As if Jack wasn’t the most distracting man on earth, with those ancient eyes and that wide grin and those pants that hugged his ass like spandex. Staring at the pastries, Ianto couldn’t help but notice Jack’s expression in the glass of the oven, watching him attentively. 

His timer went off, and Ianto pulled the pastries out of the oven. They were a perfect golden brown, as puffy as clouds and hopefully delicious. He transferred them to a cooling rack, and began work on the wretched creme patissiere. It was infinitely more nerve-wracking having Jack watch him, but it was a good motivator, as before he knew it the creme pat was done, and nearly perfect at that. 

Ianto took a deep breath. “That’s the first time I’ve made it without it curdling. You must be a lucky charm.”

“You might be the first person on earth to think that.” 

Ianto threw the creme pat into the fridge and began work on the ganache, a significantly easier process. “Maybe you’ve just never tried being a lucky baking charm before. It might be your forte.” 

“That’s true. Though, the last time I tried baking something my neighbors had to call the fire department after seeing smoke billowing out of my windows.”

That… wasn’t hard to believe. “What were you even trying to make?”

“A cake. I think the sugar caught fire. I must’ve been too hot to handle.”

It hit Ianto that this might be the right time to inquire into Jack’s tastes. “What sort of cake?” 

“What’s with the sudden curiosity?” Ah, he had blown it. Now Jack was going to play games with him, and it would take another three years for him to figure it out. “Not planning a birthday surprise, I hope, cause you’d have missed it by quite a few months.”

“Not quite. I was just wondering.” The ganache done, Ianto set it into the fridge to cool as well. He grabbed the cup of tea he had been nursing for some time, and finally faced Jack again. “So, yes, I do a bit of baking here and there.”

“Every dessert, every muffin, that was all you?”

“Yes. And I bake most of them here. It’s a wonder nobody’s found out before.”

“But why not just tell us? I assume it’s not something to do with ruining your masculine image.” 

“I enjoy having the creative freedom. If everyone knew, they’d ask me to make things, when really I just like testing different recipes.”

“That explains a lot. I never understood why you’d bring in so many different types of bread. Don’t get me wrong, I like a good bread, but going from a chocolate challa to something filled with cardamom and lemon gives you a bit of whiplash.”

So, Jack liked bread. That wasn’t helpful in the slightest. “I’m afraid I rather use you all as my test subjects, but I couldn’t very well eat an entire batch of biscuits myself. It’s easier to pretend I bought them. Though I’m certain most stores don’t actually sell beer biscuits.”

“Hey, those were good. A little heavy on the malt, though.”

Another thing to jot in his mental notebook. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time. Were there any of the other ones you especially liked?”

“They’re all pretty good. You’re a great baker, you know that? We should get you one of those ‘kiss the cook’ aprons.”

Ianto once again had to attempt to hold back a blush. “That’s not an answer.”

“Fine, I’m a cake man. Always have been, and probably always will be.”

Without thinking, Ianto said, “You should see the things I can do with icing.” Immediately he wanted to throw himself off the tower, as that was quite possibly the worst sentence he had ever said in his life. 

He was saved by Jack’s bright laugh. “Maybe I will get you that apron. And then take everything else off.” 

The idea of the two of them in the kitchen together, nude except for an apron with a cheesy slogan, was deeply tempting. But he wasn’t done with the religieuse yet, and if he got too distracted he knew he wouldn’t ever finish them. It would take a few more minutes for everything to be cool, so he needed to kill a little time. The part of his mind that was wary about this just becoming a fling was being swiftly beaten out by the part which really, really wanted to fuck Jack. “I thought you were supposed to be out tonight.”

“Had a change of plans in the form of a Weevil. Got it locked up now, but the thing put up a nasty fight. Though I am glad it got me out of an incredibly boring conversation with a repressed accountant. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to have sex or give me a lecture on the best accounting software to use.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it? I got to learn about your little secret, so I’d call that a good night.”

“It’s not a secret, I just chose not to tell anyone.” 

Jack raised a skeptical eyebrow, and it was then that Ianto realized just how close the man had gotten to him. “Though, there’s one thing I’d like to know.”

“Yes?” It was taking all of his willpower to keep his unfazed expression. 

“If you don’t want anyone asking you to bake things, why ask me what to bake?”

Ianto locked eyes with Jack, and gained an odd surge of confidence. Grabbing Jack by the suspenders, he pushed him up against the counter, much to Jack’s amusement. “I believe that’s something you already know the answer to.” 

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll just have to figure it out, won’t you?” 

Jack leaned in, but Ianto pressed a hand to Jack’s chest. 

“Not until I’m done with the pastries.”

“You tricky bastard.”

“I know, I’m positively evil.” 

Ianto headed to retrieve the creme pat and ganache from the fridge, taking an extra moment to ensure Jack most certainly saw his ass as he leaned over. He could feel Jack’s eyes on him as he slowly filled the small pastries with creme and covered them with ganache. He stacked them just so, and was rather proud that none of them fell over. But they weren’t done yet. He still needed to make a whipped cream for their little collars, and during the process he needed to swat Jack’s hands away from the desserts numerous times. 

As Ianto dotted the whipped cream around the pastries, he watched as Jack took the whisk from the bowl and dramatically licked along it. Ianto rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny it was getting him rather hard. “That’s quite obscene.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Jack continued with the motions, nearly making Ianto ruin one of the pastries. 

Finally, the religieuse were done. They stood like the little nuns they were supposed to represent, in neat lines on the baking tray. 

“What are these things called, anyway?”

“Religieuse. It’s a French pastry, meant to look like nuns.”

Jack picked up one of them, apparently waiting for Ianto to protest. When he didn’t, Jack took a bite, his eyes lighting up. “Ianto, you really are a genius, you know that?”

“So they tell me.” Ianto picked up one for himself and gave it a try. They were much better than the last time he had made them, probably because the filling hadn’t curdled. It was about as close to perfect as Ianto figured he could get them. “Now, where were we?”

Jack grinned, and Ianto was hit by a wave of love for the man. “If memory serves, I think we were about to do something illicit against the counter over there.”

Ianto noticed a faint smear of ganache on Jack’s cheek, and decided to take it upon himself to deal with that issue with his mouth. He relished the way Jack shuttered when Ianto’s lips touched his skin, and loved it even more when he used his tongue and heard Jack gasp. The chocolate, semi-sweet, was a little bitter on his tastebuds, and he could taste it even more when he took Jack’s lips against his own and kissed him. 

It began slow, intimate, exactly how Ianto had wanted their first kiss to be. Well, their first real kiss, since their first kiss had technically been when Ianto was mostly-unconscious during the Lisa incident. Ianto tried not to think about that as he decided to take things a step further, working his tongue between Jack’s lips. Kissing Jack was intoxicating, and Ianto was ready to get drunk off of him. 

The next morning, Ianto awoke on top of Jack, the two of them having decided to share Jack’s office couch. It wasn’t a particularly good idea, as Ianto was now sore in every joint that mattered, but that was quickly forgotten when he could feel Jack tenderly stroking his arm. 

“Good morning.” Ianto muttered, still half-asleep. 

“Even better with you here.” 

Ianto went to check his watch, but remembered he had shed it the night before. He checked the clock on Jack’s wall. “The others will be in soon.”

“Still time for a repeat of last night’s activities?”

It would be tight, but Ianto knew Jack was the creative type. “If we’re quick, I think we can swing it.” Ianto propped himself up on his elbows, suddenly remembering something they never addressed last night. “You never told me what your favorite kind of cake is.”

Jack smiled. “You really wanna know that now?”

“Yes, I do.”

“It’s nothing fancy.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

Jack could see that Ianto wasn’t willing to let up on the subject. “Poor man’s cake. It’s a kind of wartime cake that doesn’t need eggs or milk or butter. Simple, reliable, and I’ve always liked it.”

That really wasn’t what Ianto had expected, but it made sense. Jack had seen all kinds of wars, all kinds of rationing, so a wartime cake would probably remind him of the few good times he had in those dark periods. It was rather sweet, and a side of Jack he didn’t often get to see. “I’ll have to make it then.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll be happy with whatever you bake.”

“I want to. For you.”

For a moment, a wave of emotion crossed Jack’s face, and Ianto could almost see the years and years of loneliness weighing on his soul. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Jack pulled Ianto down into a kiss. 

Ianto knew he was only going to be a blip in Jack’s eternal life, a brief shadow passing like an eclipsing moon. So he was going to make that blip as memorable as he could. If he needed cake to do that, then so be it. Cake it was.

**Author's Note:**

> The recipe for religieuse is here: https://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/religieuse_46431  
> yes, i have made these before. can you tell. can you tell i hate creme pat. i'm not bitter   
> also i know that like, bake-off didn't start until 2010 but torchwood takes place before then. time is fake.


End file.
